


Enter Sandman

by BarPurple



Series: BarPurple's House of Horror 2016 [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, F/M, Horror, Hurt, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: You're not safe in your dreams when the sandman comes to town.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS**  
>  Blood  
> Gore  
> Horror film levels of nasty

A peaceful night wrapped snugly over Storybrooke, soothing everyone into getting some much needed sleep. One creature had not received the memo that tonight was to be a calm one within the little fairy-tale town. 

A cloud of dust whirled along Main Street in an unfelt breeze. It twisted past a door, then turned back and hovered outside for a moment. The glimmers within the dust cloud grew brighter for a second, and then the cloud drifted under the door into the building.

Once inside the loft apartment the cloud coalesced into something approaching a human form. The creature’s body was stick thin, elongated beyond the point of probability. It stalked across the loft on the tips of its long toes, ducking under the curtain that separated the bedroom from the living space. Its head tilted and swivelled on its thin neck as it considered the baby sleeping in the crib. The dreams of one this young were never satisfying meals. With a shrug that cast spiky shadows up the walls it turned to the bed. Ah, the parents, a more tempting possibility.

The man lay on this side of the bed; even in sleep he had the look of a hero. A thin grin twisted like a scar across creature’s face. Long thin fingers ghosted over the man’s face before stilling in the air above his creased brow. The creature rubbed the very tips of its fingers together. A faint rasping sound accompanied the falling of delicate dust which snaked its way into the man’s closed eyes.

_The wind tugged at his hair and cloak, he could hear the hot breath of the horse, feel the fast shift of its muscles as they rode forward. It was a joy to be riding for no other reason than to ride. He winced as something stung his eyes. The dream changed around him. Now he was in the courtyard of the castle, a cauldron bubbling in front of him._

The man shifted restlessly in his sleep. The creature leaned forward in anticipation; its sharp tongue ran over thin lips, the first meal of the night was so close.

_“Snow! Regina!”_

_His voice echoed back to him, the castle felt empty, this wasn’t right. He gasped and doubled over as a searing pain lanced through his chest. The second stab of agony arched him backwards, his arms thrown wide and held in place by unseen bonds. He tried to scream, but pain and panic robbed him of his voice. Pressure rose inside his chest, he glanced down and found himself bare from the waist up, his chest bulging unnaturally along his breast bone. The scream tore from his throat as his skin split and peeled from his torso in wet tatters. Somehow he found more breath and screamed even louder as his ribs snapped and splayed out to his sides. He dragged in rapid shaky breaths, his head lolled forward on his neck and he found himself looking into his own open chest. Needle thin fingers wrapped around his beating heart. He raised his eyes and found a spindly horror in front of him. The creature’s arm snapped backwards, tearing his heart from his chest. Maniacal laughter filled the air, in the creature’s gore smeared hand the beats of his heart slowed…_

The man on the bed tensed, his eyelids slammed open. The Creature sharply inhaled the glowing dust that drifted from the man’s unseeing eyes. The baby whimpered in its crib, the parents stirred, but neither noticed the odd breeze that swept the cloud of dust under the door.

 

In the deserted street below the dustcloud swirled in a gleeful circle before drifting deeper into town. In the master bedroom of a large airy house it found the source of it next meal, a dark haired, one handed man.

_The Jolly creaked reassuringly as she moved over the waves. He inhaled the sharp tang of salt air and swore softly as something stung his eyes. He rubbed at them, his head snapping up at the sudden absence of a familiar sound. The waves had stilled, his ship was becalmed. He gripped the rail only to stumble back in shock at the sight of his hands. He had two hands again. As he eyed the left one with distrust the skin split around his wrist. He howled in pain as blood flowed down his arm, his howls turned to guttural whimpers as tendons and muscle snapped. He cradled the tattered limb to his chest and watched in growing horror as his fallen hand flopped on the deck._

The creature leant low over the sleeping man, it could sense the pain, the fear.

_The severed hand squirmed and wriggled like a landed fish. Bile rose in his throat as thick oily tentacles oozed from the bloody wrist, fingernails peeled away revealing sharp snapping beaks of octopi. He tried to back away, but slipped in his own blood, cracking his skull against the boards of his ship. The freakish hand pounced, slimy wet tentacles wound around his neck choking the breath from him. His vision blurred, a spindly apparition appeared over him laughing at his torment, before the world was swallowed by darkness…_

The creature sucked the returning dust from the blank horror widened eyes of the sleeping man. It reeled back on its thin limbs, only just managing to avoid the furniture in its strange stagger. The pain, the fear; all intoxicating; yet still it hungered for more. A whispering sigh escaped its lips as it dissolved into a cloud and drifted from the room. 

Emma sat bolt upright and snapped the light on. Something was wrong. Killian groggily spoke her name. She turned and found him sweat soaked and trembling. Her hands soothed over his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nightmare, sorry to wake you, love.”

Emma pulled him into her arms, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something, something dark had been in the room.

 

On the outskirts of town it found a challenge. The man inside was technically awake, but in some sort of trance, this would be a risk, but it was feeling bold. The cloud shimmered and slipped in through an open window.

The spinning wheel turned slowly, carded fleece drawing through well practiced fingers and becoming yarn in a slow steady rhythm. The creature lurked in cloud form in the shadows of the room. It couldn’t risk taking on its other form. Lightning fast a puff of dust shot at the man’s eyes. The spinning wheel didn’t even pause as he blinked slowly.

 _The stink of the camp hit him. Sounds of soldiers, horses and weapons reached his ears, but the sensation that he was alone was smothering. The sledgehammer was leaning against the wagon, but he didn’t reach for it._ (this isn’t right) _He pulled a knife from his belt as he propped his foot on a nearby crate. He hissed through gritted teeth as he slashed at the leather of his pants and boot. The blade came away bloody, but still he hacked until he got to bare skin._ (no, it didn’t happen like this) _The blade wavered in the air before he plunged it into the meat of his calf. He screamed as the sharp metal tore through his flesh, leaving a long jagged opening in its wake. He drove his fingers into the gapping would, squirming them under the bloody muscle until he felt bone. A tortured breath hissed between his teeth as he began twist…_

“RUMPLESTITLSKIN!”

The sound of Belle’s voice startled him from his spinning trace. His hair whipped around his face as something rushed from the room and out via the open window into the night.

“Rumple! Are you alright?”

His throat was thick, his thoughts sluggish, but Belle’s hands wrapped around his wrists grounded him.

“I’m confused."

“Are you hurt?”

He finally looked at his hands and recoiled, tugged them from Belle’s gentle grip. His fingers were smeared in blood. The yarn he’d been spinning was dripping red. Rumple grimaced and pushed his magic scour the mess from his hands. He waggled his fingers at Belle.

“There were no cuts, no idea how that happened. What did you see?”

Belle’s nose wrinkled as she lifted the gory spun yarn out of her way. She set herself next to him on the bench and took a slow breath.

“When I came in here there was a long thin figure crouching in front of your wheel. It looked like it was made out of very think sticks. It’s fingers were reaching around the wheel for your face,” She shuddered, “It turned into a cloud of dust when I shouted you’re name.”

Rumple nodded slowly, there was still a lingering headache, but it was fading.

“A Nightshade. A sort of cross between a vampire and the Sandman.”

Belle spared the bloody spinning a glance.

“It was feeding on you?”

“Yes, not on the blood. Nightshades produce a dust that invades dreams. They twist memories of physical pain into gruesome horrors and feast on the terror.”  
Belle wound her fingers with his.

“Your leg?”

“Yes.”

He was grateful she didn’t ask anything further, the twisted images of his crippling were still too fresh in his mind. Rumple rubbed at his eye and frowned at the gritty dust that clung to his finger.

“It didn’t finish its meal. It’ll be back.”

Belle rolled her shoulder and rose to her feet.

“Then we have work to do. There has to be a way to stop this thing.”

In the face and her determination the lingering effects of the Nightshade dust ebbed. Rumple nodded and followed her as she led them to the library.


End file.
